Tex Appeal (12 page)

S
HE WAS
ready to make love to him. That much she knew. He was physically gorgeous, yes, but she was drawn to him by much more than the fit of his jeans and the width of his shoulders.

She’d been as honest as possible when she’d told him she felt she’d found a kindred spirit who understood why she found relationships so hard. She just hadn’t told him that she saw everything she wanted in him.

Knowing she could trust him in that one regard made opening up to him so easy. It was no guarantee that she wouldn’t get hurt, yet getting hurt was a risk that came with all emotional involvement.

But was she ready for what he was asking? For what he wanted? The only answer she had was that she was ready to try, and so she moved away from the fence, took a step toward him and held out her hand.

Instead of taking it, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his body. She leaned into him, one arm around his back, one hand reaching up to hold his as they walked toward the house.

She hadn’t noticed the cold when she’d been outside enjoying the twinkle of the stars splattered across the sky for unending miles, but once the warmth of the house began to thaw her fingers, her ears, the tip of her nose, the shivers set in and rattled her.

Wyatt reached his free hand across her body and rubbed up and down her arm as they made their way through the dark kitchen. “What were you doing outside with only a sweatshirt anyway? It’s going to drop close to freezing tonight.”

Shaking all over now, she hated to let him go, but had to in order to climb the stairs. “It didn’t seem that cold when I went out.”

“Lost in thought?”

She nodded. She’d been thinking about him, this place, if there might honestly be a way they could continue to see each other after this weekend, or if all their teasing about commuting was just that—nothing but a joke. What would she be willing to give up to have him in her life?

“You’re not going to share the details?”

“A girl’s got to have some secrets,” she said as they reached the second-floor landing.

“Hmm. Not so sure I like the sound of that.”

“Think of it this way. If I tell you everything now, what will you have to look forward to?”

Huffing at that, he took hold of her elbow and led her to the bathroom, grabbing towels from the linen closet. “What I’m looking forward to right now is smelling a little less like someone who spent the past few hours riding through a herd of cows getting ready to drop their calves.”

She pushed open the bathroom door. “Would you like some help with that?”

He growled his answer, propelling her into the white-and-yellow tiled room and kicking the door shut behind them. He tossed the towels to hang over the rack, and stood on one foot then the other to tug off his boots.

When he reached for the snaps of his shirt, Tess stopped him. She wanted to see his body, to touch him, to taste him, to breathe him in. She wanted to learn the texture of the hair on his chest, his head, between his legs. She wanted to see how the skin at his throat tasted differently from that of his chest and belly. But she didn’t want any of it to happen so fast that she missed enjoying a single moment.

And so she started on his shirt, pulling the tails from his waistband and popping the snaps one by one. He let her do that much, but then he grew impatient, shrugging off the heavy denim and reaching for the hem of the plain white T-shirt he wore beneath.

She could have stopped him, could have inched the fabric up his torso and chest, revealing the skin beneath slowly, but she let him strip the shirt away, thrilled to see how anxious he was to have her.

And, oh, but his chest was beautiful—broad and finely muscled, covered with a mat of dark hair that grew less thickly over sharply defined abs before trailing down to disappear beneath the jeans he still wore.

She reached out because she couldn’t resist, dragging her fingers up his stomach to his chest, threading them through his hair and tugging, finding his nipples and pinching them lightly, massaging the flesh covering his pectorals until he groaned.

He wasn’t a patient man and only gave her a minute to play before reaching for the lower band of her sweatshirt, skimming the garment over her head and saying, “My turn.”

She stood there in her jeans and a bra of lemon-colored silk. It wasn’t particularly sheer, but she could see her reflection in the mirror over the sink, and knew exactly how dark and tight her nipples appeared. If he couldn’t tell by her body’s reaction how much she wanted him…

Wyatt’s eyes seemed to sizzle as he stared, as he watched her reach back to unhook the clasp, as he took in the bounce of her breasts when she shimmied free of the straps and the bra dropped to the floor.

His chest began to rise and fall rapidly. His eyes dilated. His nostrils flared as he searched for her scent. She didn’t have to lower her eyes to know he was fully aroused. She’d felt the strength of his erection last night when he’d pinned her to the bedroom door, and his expression burned now as it had then.

She couldn’t wait anymore. They had to get this first coming-together behind them, relieve the tension so they could spend hours taking things slowly. Reaching into the tub, she turned on the water, jerked the curtain almost all the way shut, and hit the lever that sent the water from the faucet to the shower head above.

That done, she fumbled for the buttons of her jeans. While opening her fly, she kicked out of her shoes and socks, then peeled off both her pants and panties. She didn’t look at him, though she heard all sorts of grunts and groans as he got rid of his clothes, but stepped into the tub and lifted her face to the spray.

She listened to the slide of the curtain on the rod as he pulled it open then shut it behind him, and suddenly the tub that had seemed so roomy closed in on her, leaving her feeling as if this moment in this place was her whole world. As if nothing had existed before Wyatt Crowe walked into her life. As if what happened here would change her forever.

Oh, but she was ready for it to happen. What Wyatt had given her in the last two days was what she’d never found in the men she’d dated to make her mother happy. He wasn’t interested in her pedigree, her social status, her family’s wealth.

He didn’t care that she knew nothing about rodeo, that she had no intention of ever getting up at four-thirty in the morning, that she could chow down with the hungriest of his men. He wanted her for being Tess.

And for him, that’s exactly who she wanted to be. Herself—giving him all the things she’d never wanted to give to anyone before. Especially her love. She turned, slicked back her hair from her face, and finally opened her eyes.

He had one hand on the curtain rod, one braced flat on the tiled wall. He was staring down at her, watching her, his eyes fiery, the tic in his jaw proving how close he was to losing control.

She wanted to see what it would take, how far he could stand for her to go, so she reached for the soap, lathered a head of suds in her hands and slipped her palms beneath her breasts, cupping their weight, toying with her nipples, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Wyatt closed his eyes, dropped his head back on his neck, his throat and shoulders tense. Tess glanced down at his erection, took a deep breath and wondered why she was playing games and drawing this out when he was what she wanted—and when she wanted him so much she thought she’d die with the need to have him inside her.

She didn’t wait for him to regain his composure. She took him in her soapy hands, wrapped one leg around his hip and stood on her tiptoes to guide him into place. Once he realized what she was doing, he took over, reaching for a condom he’d left on the counter and having a much better idea of how this balancing act should work.

He hooked his hands behind her thighs and hoisted her up as he drove forward, nearly slamming her into the wall in his need to have her. He entered her in one long stroke, and she gasped as he filled her, looping her arms around his neck and holding on for the ride she knew wouldn’t take either of them long.

He felt as if she’d been waiting for him forever, the fit of him perfect as he stretched her, as she tightened around him, her contractions causing him to make a lot of sounds that were nothing if not base and raw, sounds that she would’ve echoed had she been able to find her voice.

She couldn’t find anything but sensation. The water steamy around her like a cloud, beating against her legs, her side, stinging her skin. His muscles beneath her hands flexing. The scent of damp skin and soap. And the picture in her mind of his erection, the girth, the length…the realization that she had all of that inside her now.

He shifted his weight more evenly, leaning heavily into her, nearly crushing her, and she didn’t even care. She loved bearing up his body with her own, giving him that cushion, that support, that comfort. The friction of his skin against hers, the slick slide of their bellies together, the damp hair of his chest rubbing over her breasts was almost too much stimulation to process. And she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

His thrusts were powerful, spreading her open, the base of his cock grinding against her clit, his hair there scratching against her, stimulating, tickling, bringing her to the edge so quickly that she went over in a spectacular fall that she thought would never end.

He came then, his orgasm following hers, a storm, a surge, exploding into her and taking her with him again into a swirling, spiraling completion that left them both too short of breath to stand.

“T
HAT SHOULDN’T
have happened so fast,” he said, shifting his right elbow closer to her head where her hair lay in damp ringlets on his pillow.

She sucked a sharp breath as the motion had his erection hitting just the right spot inside of her. “Who says?”

“Me, for one.” He brushed back strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “I like to take things slow. Get a lot more out of the experience than one quick blast.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” she asked, reaching up and tugging on his locks, long against his neck. She liked the length, the way he looked more outlaw than lawman. “Making up for being so quick on the draw before? Stop apologizing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How ’bout if I place blame instead?”

“On who? Me?”

“It sure as hell wasn’t all my fault, the way you were getting yourself off.”

She liked that he’d enjoyed watching her, liked that her plan had worked. “I was taking a shower. You know, washing, soaping up my breasts.”

“A shower my ass.” He thrust again, nearly taking her off the bed.

It took several seconds to find the will to speak. “I showered your ass, too. Along with every other part of your amazing body.”

“You did, didn’t you?” He settled more of his weight in the cradle of her hips, rubbing the base of his shaft against her swollen clit. She tingled, she ached, her heart swelled. “You did a damn fine job.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She dug her fingers into his buttocks and urged him further along the length of her body.

He complied, sinking as deep inside of her as was possible for him to get. “Is that better?”

“It’s perfect.” Too perfect. Perfect bliss. Heaven. She groaned. “I could get so used to this.”

“You can have it any time.”

Had he come up with a magical solution to merging their separate lives? Could she even think about that at a time like this when she was so close to coming for what, the fourth, fifth time? “How so?”

“Commute.”

“That’s not fair.” He rolled his hips; she shuddered beneath him. “And that’s really not fair.”

“Just don’t want you to forget me,” he said, looking down at her with eyes so soft, so filled with emotion that her throat threatened to lock around the words she wanted to say.

“That will never happen.”

He dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose, a tender touch, so gentle. “That’s good to hear, because I plan to see that you don’t.”

She arched upward, dropped back to the mattress, hurting with the way she wanted him now, the way she wanted him forever. “This plan of yours. I’m going to assume that includes you not forgetting me?”

He leaned to one side and brought his free hand up to cup her breast, to run his thumb teasingly across her nipple before sliding his fingers down between their bellies to where their bodies were joined.

Tess cried out, her arms reaching to both sides of the bed, her hands gripping the sheet as she came. She lost herself in the sensation, knowing that he came with her, but so drunk with what she was feeling that she couldn’t spare any of herself to help him along.

When they had both finished and collapsed together, exhausted, he whispered into her ear, “In a million years, a million lifetimes, I will never forget about you.”

T
ESS SPENT
all of Sunday talking to his men, and Wyatt spent the same time watching her. She amazed him, how natural she was with everyone, how easily she got them to open up about the women they’d been with in the past.

Women who’d given them a good time but nothing else.

Women who in the end, hadn’t meant a thing.

Women who’d taken what they needed and no more.

Having shared the same experiences as his crew, Wyatt couldn’t believe the difference Tess made in the morale around the ranch. He would’ve thought he’d hired on a whole new staff, what with the way everyone’s steps seemed to be lighter, the lift of their lips smiles not snarls.

Agreeing to this whole contest with the article and the getaway weekend had been a freakin’ brilliant plan. Whether or not they wanted to admit it, his men had realized it would be good to have their own women around. Especially since Tess was all his.

It was Monday, now, and she was packing to go. The men had gathered around her in front of the house, helping her with her bags, with packing her car, making sure she had coffee for the road and a map to get her where she was going. If Wyatt had his way, she wasn’t going to go anywhere for long.

He’d left her in his bed this morning and ridden out on Fargo, knowing he couldn’t tell her goodbye in front of a curious audience when he didn’t plan to tell her goodbye at all. He’d meant what he’d said. A million lifetimes wouldn’t be enough for them to share.

In four short days she’d won his heart.

The things she’d done to his body he wanted to do with her over and over again. But her interest in him, her teasing and flirting, the talking they’d done after making love the last two nights, staying awake until the wee hours and having the days drag until they could be together again…

He didn’t want that to end. In fact, he was thinking it was something he’d like to do for the rest of his life. The fact that they barely knew one another, well, they had a lifetime to remedy that.

From the pasture that ran alongside the road—the same one he’d been working in the day she arrived—he saw her coming and urged the horse into a gallop, staying far ahead of her car. Once he reached the gate, he leaned down to open it, maneuvering it closed from Fargo’s back.

And then he waited for her in the middle of the road.

She slowed when she saw him, coming to a complete stop in a repeat of Friday’s encounter. Even through the windshield he could see her fighting a smile. It made it hard for him to keep a straight face as she climbed out of the car.

“I thought this morning was the only goodbye I was going to get from you,” she said, having a hard time keeping her voice from cracking.

He’d made love to her, both of them still half asleep, before getting out of bed. He planned to make that a regular occurrence. “That wasn’t a goodbye. It was to hold you until I could come up with a solution.”

“A solution to?”

“This commuting thing.”

“I see,” she said, reaching in to turn off the ignition then walking around the front of the car and leaning against the hood. “And did you? Come up with one?”

“I think so.” They hadn’t talked much about what they were going to do after today. Or at least they hadn’t talked seriously. But even the teasing they’d done hadn’t seemed so much a joke as it had desperation.

He only hoped she bought into his plan. “I know you see patients during the week. And I work, well, every day. So I was thinking, that if you’ll come out here on Fridays and stay till Monday, I’ll come in on Tuesdays late and leave early Thursday morning.”

She crossed her arms, considered him more than his suggestion. It didn’t keep him from holding his breath as he waited for an answer that would change both their lives. “That would mean you wouldn’t be at the ranch at all on Wednesdays. Could you deal with that?”

“It would also mean I’d get to see you seven days a week, even if we’d only have a few hours during a couple of them. So, yeah. I can live with anything to make that happen.” And that was the God’s honest truth.

She pushed off the car, came a few steps closer, scuffing the toe of her shoe in the road’s dirt like she was wearing old boots instead of designer footwear. “Do I have to learn to ride a horse?”

The smile that split his face fairly ached from the way it stretched his skin. His heart pretty much ached the same. He slid from the back of the horse, dropping Fargo’s reins to ground-tie him, and met her halfway between their two rides. “Only if you want to.”

“And you.” She stopped in front of him, toyed with the snaps on his denim shirt, popped one, another, only stopping when he wrapped his hand around her busy little fingers. “When you’re with me in Houston, are you going to show your face in public?”

He couldn’t wait to take her out on the town. “I figure you’ll be wanting to show me off to your friends.”

“That so, cowboy?”

“That’s so, city girl,” he said, sliding his hands into her hair and bringing her mouth to his for a kiss that rocked his world until he couldn’t see straight.

When she finally pulled away breathless, laughing, she asked, “Tell me something. Is it really possible to have sex on the back of a moving horse?”

What the hell? “You been reading some bad porn or something? Because I value my privates too much to give that a try.”

She laughed. She doubled over until tears streamed from her eyes, tears he was damn certain were about more than what he’d just said. “Oh, Wyatt Crowe. I think I love you.”

“I think I love you, Tess Autrey,” he said. “And for you, I might even give that horse thing a try…”